Addiction
by Jennifer Wand
Summary: Short (too short, probably) Yuki Eiri 1st person POV. kind of WAFF. I may decide to revise it, but after final exams :grin:


Addiction  
  
A Gravitation fan fiction by Jennifer A. Wand  
  
-  
  
If I were a different kind of writer, I'd have something nasty to say about my cigarette fixation.  
  
As it is, though, I still have to say - a cigarette is slight, slim, and irritating. Makes it hard for me to breathe, but is comforting. Without realizing it, I reach for it once more. Without appreciating it when it's there, I find myself missing it when it's gone. And a smoky, long, thin tube, an instrument of death. The cigarette is a constant reminder of the past. Yet I'm addicted.  
  
I never should have started in the first place, quite frankly. I know that. I know it with every brewath that feels labored, with every time I catch myself sputtering like a child. This habit is ruining me little by little.   
  
Why do I surround myself with things that could destroy me? Why do I keep being caught up in such sure danger?  
  
Because, I suppose, I'm a novelist. It's romantic.  
  
I can't help myself. I fall in love.  
  
~~  
  
I tell my psychiatrist I have trouble sleeping. She prescribes me a sedative. Something else to dull my senses for a short while before the world comes crashing down around me again. How lovely.  
  
I know to whom she should prescribe a sedative if she truly wants me to get some sleep.  
  
He's in the kitchen wearing a pink apron when I come home, and he grins at me sunnily as our eyes meet. I step back, bracing myself against the wall, just in case he decides to bound over the counter and fly at me. But no, he's just decided to vandalize my kitchen tonight. Bowls and measuring cups lie scattered. A pile of silverware in the sink. Flour absolutely everywhere. He waves one potholder-gloved hand. "I'm making cookies," he informs me. I wonder how much of my refrigerator was sacrificed to make those poor mutant cookies.  
  
I harrumph at him and set down my things. "Want to taste some cookie dough?" he grins. I give him a long look, then advance into the kitchen. Running to meet me, he brandishes a spoon with a lump of dough on it. Just before he stuffs it into my face, I catch his wrist and force the spoon away. "You're cleaning all this up," are my only words to him.  
  
His face falls, and he nods. I guess I'm disappointing him again. I'm a constant disappointment to him. Which, incidentally, is fine by me. If I can't seem to keep away from him, maybe I'll eventually drive him away from me. One less addiction for me to suffer.  
  
But heaven forbid he should actually make it that easy for me. "It's OK!" he enthuses, his smile returning. "I'm not that irresponsible!" The cookie dough actually smells sort of good. I've always been partial to the scent of vanilla, and it smells like he used a whole bottle of it. I sort of dread actually tasting the cookies, but the dough smells all right.  
  
"Not that irresponsible," I echo sarcastically, giving him a "look." He blinks back at me, and in the instant before he reacts, I see the look of an innocent child on his face. A jackhammer starts pounding in my heart.  
  
He turns the spoon to face himself and takes a long, slow lick of the batter. The sight of his tongue flicking away at it makes me shudder for a moment, before I realize that no, he's not trying to seduce me. He has no clue what that motion means -- he's just a kid in a kitchen. And I'm reminded again. I'm the toxin polluting this boy. The ash in his lungs. I'm no good for him -- I can only corrupt him. And I wish that thought didn't turn me on so damned much.  
  
He finishes his ministrations on the spoon and looks up at me, as though waiting for a final word. There's a dot of cookie dough on his nose. I want to eat him up right there, starting at the dough and finishing.... "Yeah, so I just put them in the oven," he interrupts my thought. "So, time to clean up." And off he goes, marching over to the sink and rolling up his sleeves, still with the silly dot of dough on the tip of his nose. A hot little bud of fire floating around my kitchen, oblivious to the haze he puts me in.  
  
Damned addiction. Damned undeniable addiction.  
  
I take hold of his arms first, starting where his sleeves end and trailing my fingers downwards as his body relaxes backward into mine. "Yuki?" The word comes rolling out of his mouth, that soft, confused, enticing drawl that makes me want to evoke it more. My hands entwine with his briefly, then embrace him. There is sweetness washing through me -- my blood is like sugar. I smell his hair -- that half-baby shampoo, half-peroxide smell that defines him. Without realizing, I think to myself, ~So sexy.~ And immediately berate myself for such a cliche. Berate myself for continuing to think it.  
  
"Yada, Yuki, I'm cleaning like you told me to--" His voice chokes and he falls silent. I pride myself on my seduction techniques -- I can break anyone down with words, with motions, with looks. And he reacts just like I know he will. I should be bored with him, I really should. But something about the way he responds, predictable as it is, seduces me too. It's a curse. Every time I feel my body react to his silly simple movements, I curse myself. But when he turns toward me, and his cheeks are pink and his eyes are hazy, and I finally get to lick that sweet spot of dough off his nose, I'm lost.  
  
I light him on fire, take him into me as though I could breathe him, burn him up and wear him down. It feels good, even the parts that hurt, even the parts where I lose myself in him and cry out for him as though he was air, not poison. Man is not supposed to drink poison willingly. Just as man is not made to be with man. It's unnatural according to all common sense*. But I remain addicted. Despite all logic, despite all I've been through and all I know.  
  
What else can I do? I'm in love with him.  
  
It's surely fatal, this fixation. I'll die from it someday. But I can't give it up.   
  
Because I'm a novelist. It's romantic.  
  
And I'm addicted.  
  
~  
  
the end  
  
~  
  
* This is Yuki's thinking, not mine I do not have a problem with homosexuality or I would not love this show so much. ^_^ Ever wonder why some people think homosexuality is 'unnatural' but don't mind sucking little sticks filled with poison? ::strange world:: 


End file.
